


Morning

by fuckitfireeverything



Category: Avengers (Comic), Marvel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:35:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckitfireeverything/pseuds/fuckitfireeverything
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows when he wakes up the next morning that Steve is gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning

He knows when he wakes up the next morning that Steve is gone. Honorable, noble, Boy Scout, American hero Steve -- Tony didn't exactly expect him to stay. It isn't like Tony's never been the one to realize halfway through the night that he can't bear to be there when his one-night-stand wakes up. But for once, for maybe only the second time in his life, he wants to feel the heavy weight of a lover's arm draped across his chest when the sun in his eyes forces him into consciousness.

It was stupid to begin with, he knows that. In fact he knows that quite intimately, thank you very much. With the adrenaline of saving the world, the leftover haze of what might have become post-apocalyptic desperation, he knows this meant nothing to Steve. Just the closest willing warm body to cling to and explore like he'd thought he'd never have the chance to explore one again. It should have meant nothing to Tony as well, would have if he could help it, if Pepper had been mercifully wrong when she had reassured him in a moment of uncharacteristic honesty on his part, _of course you have a heart, Tony._

The light is nearly blinding against his raw, closed eyelids.

"JARVIS," he groans, pressing his hand over his eyes. The bed next to him is undoubtedly empty. He might have guessed the restrained feeling in his chest was cardiac arrest were he not intimately familiar with that sensation.

"Good morning, sir."

"Have mercy on me and close the blinds, would you?"

"Seems inconsiderate considering that Master Rogers just asked that I open them a few moments ago."

He sits up with a jolt, his eyes meeting Steve's immediately from across the room.

"You--" he starts, voice catching in his throat.

"Sorry to wake you," Steve smiles. "I thought the light would help..."

It takes longer than it should for Tony to see the sketchbook and charcoal in Steve's hand, but comprehension isn't high on Tony's list of priorities, not when Steve is sitting, still naked, on the chair across the room, hair mussed, sun letting his golden skin glow. Steve, there. Still there. Not run back to his room in shame, not gone from the mansion in regret.

"You're..." Tony starts, trying to string together a sentence that sounds less pathetic than _you're still here?_

"Drawing you," Steve responds, gesturing to his sketchbook, missing Tony's meaning. "Yeah. I, um, I hope that's okay with you. You just..."

Tony swears he see's Steve blush all over, in places he didn't know could blush.

"You look amazing when you're asleep."


End file.
